If Gables thought the instructions strange, he did not show it. A consummate professional, he only nodded and said, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
“Send my valet. I’m ready for bed.”
“Yes, my lord.” Gables turned and began to move away.
Damn it,Rory thought.Damn. Damn. Damn.He clenched his teeth. “Gables,” he gritted out.
The butler turned again. “Yes, my lord?”
“One more thing.” He clenched his fists but made himself say it. “Send for a doctor to come at his earliest convenience.”
“Are you feeling unwell, my lord?”
“No. It’s for Miss Lumlee. She’ll need to be fitted for spectacles.”
*
Genevieve was almostas excited as Frances at the mysterious box delivered with the breakfast tray. There was no doubt it was for the little girl. Her name had been written on a white card and placed on top of the box.
“What do you think it is?” Frances asked, eyes wide.
“Open it and see.”
She reached for the box and then pulled her hand back. “Shall I wait until after I eat?”
Genevieve was impressed with her patience. At Frances’s age, she would have opened the box and gone through its contents within seconds. “If you like. Sometimes the anticipation of a gift is almost as wonderful as the gift itself.”
Frances set the box beside her on the nursery table and began to eat her porridge. Genevieve straightened the bedclothes, even though Mary would be in to clean and tidy the nursery later. The breakfast tray included tea and toast for Genevieve, but she didn’t feel very hungry. She’d had nightmares about witches the past couple of nights, and she blamed Lord Emory for it. In fact, she blamed Lord Emory for how poorly she’d slept lately. After their interlude—that seemed the appropriate word—in his library, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about howvulnerable he had been when he talked about the loss of his wife and child. Particularly tragic was the loss of his infant son before he’d even had a chance to meet the baby.
Genevieve gathered that Lord Emory had not been on the best terms with his wife at the time of her death, or throughout their marriage, but surely they must have reconciled at some point if they had a newborn son. Perhaps he’d hoped to reconcile again, and he mourned what would never be.
But why would he assume responsibility for what was so clearly an accident? And why blame it on a witch and a curse? Had he simply had too much to drink and begun spouting nonsense, or was there more to it?
“Mama must have sent me this box,” Frances said, snapping Genevieve out of her reverie. She frowned and took the seat opposite the little girl, who was still eating and occasionally caressing the top of the box.
“What do you mean, Frances? How could your mother send the box?”
“She’s coming back for me,” Frances said, looking at Genevieve with her large brown eyes. “She’s gone to her secret kingdom, but she will come back for me.”
Genevieve felt her belly tighten and was glad she hadn’t tried to eat anything. She had heard Frances call her father the evil prince and chatter to her doll about a faraway kingdom and a queen, but she thought the girl had been making up fanciful stories, as children her age were wont to do. She hadn’t thought the child truly believed her mother was still alive.
Genevieve put a hand on Frances’s where the child touched the box. “Sweetheart, that box cannot be from your mother. You know that, don’t you?”
Frances pulled her hand away and shrugged.
“I know you miss your mama, and that is to be expected. I told you it’s good to remember her, but she passed away in the carriage accident. Remember that we talked about that phrase?”
Frances nodded. “May I open the box now?”
“Of course.” Genevieve removed the remains of her breakfast then watched as Frances lifted the lid of the box and peered inside.
She pulled out one silk square cloth and frowned. “What is it?”
“It looks like a handkerchief. Look at the embroidery. Those must be your mother’s initials.”
“These are my mother’s handkerchiefs?” Carefully, the girl pulled out three more silk handkerchiefs. Three of the four were white, and one a blush pink. All had the same embroidered initials.
“Those are quite lovely,” Genevieve said, and meant it. She had never had a handkerchief so fine.
